


Grounding

by DmitriMolotov



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Blindfolds, Breathplay, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Consent, Gags, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Non-Sexual Bondage, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Post MAG159, Shibari, Subspace, Suspension, tea as aftercare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:42:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23140396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DmitriMolotov/pseuds/DmitriMolotov
Summary: The cottage in Scotland wasn't the most stimulating setting to lay low in. If Jon wanted to keep his 'seeing' under control, he needed something to help him stay present, grounded.Fortunately, Martin had an idea.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 46
Kudos: 364





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing in a new fandom jitters... Fluff is not usually my home turf, but I saw an opening and had to go for it.  
> This was inspired by [a post of ace Jon scenarios by backofthebookshelf on Tumblr](https://backofthebookshelf.tumblr.com/post/183938195531/ace-jon-sims-scenarios-this-fandom-has-been). Enjoy!  
> While this fic is technically "complete" in that there's no ongoing plot, subscribe for new additions and updates, because I can't seem to stop writing them.

The tiny village in Scotland only had so much to offer. While the cows were indeed "really good", as Martin had so articulately put it, there were only so many walks you could go for before the rain and inevitable boredom set in for good.

And Jon needed a decent distraction.

Being away from the Archives was taking its toll. He had been practically starving and he had no intention of extracting anything from Martin. He refused to allow himself to do so. Stale statements sent from Basira would have to do. It was a rough diet, but he could control himself, he had to. He suddenly thought of Daisy and briefly wondered how she’d been faring. He felt his mind begin to expand reflexively, feeling at the edge between wondering and _knowing_ and he instantly recoiled, forcing his thoughts back to the present. 

They were laying low. He was trying not to see things. He needed to fix his sights on the here and now. 

Mindfulness. That’s what Martin had called it. Meditation, relaxation, focus on your breathing, that sort of stuff.

 _Grounding_.

"Right... Right," Jon muttered under his breath as he looked around the room.

The thin white cushion that had been tossed on the raw wood chair in the corner. The worn red rug covering the floorboards. His steaming cup of tea. The more polished wooden table in the centre of the room. The squat round lamp that sat atop it. _Five things you can see. Physically_ see, he reminded himself.

He shut his eyes.

The steady clear tick of the clock. The drizzle of rain falling on the roof and soaking the ground outside. His own steady breathing. His fingers drumming lightly on the table. _Four things you can hear._

The cool air in the room on his skin. The cracked old leather of the sofa he was sat on. The hardwood table under his fingers. _Three things you can feel._

He breathed in slowly through his nose.

Freshly brewed tea. The wet ground outside. _Two things you can smell._

Jon took a sip of tea. It was warm and slightly astringent from over-brewing.

_One thing you can taste._

Martin always made the better cup of tea.

He took a deep breath and letting it out, felt himself relax a little. The little grounding exercise helped, but it was always only a temporary fix. 

Heavy footsteps outside and the flustered shaking of an umbrella at the door calmed his nerves further. Martin was back.

He hadn’t even been gone long, just enough time to go down to the shops and pick up a few supplies - sometimes the road between the village and the safehouse flooded in the heavy rain and they didn’t want to get caught out. Jon had stayed behind to read a statement, but it had only unsettled his thoughts and left him feeling almost as empty as when he'd started.

He met Martin at the door, disappointed he couldn’t really help in any way, instead bringing his umbrella and wet shoes in to dry before following him to the kitchen.

“See any good cows?”

Martin laughed. “Sadly no, I think they all wanted to be out of the rain today.”

Jon looked out the window, the rain was coming down harder now. “Can hardly blame them.”

“Statement any good?” Martin asked cautiously, putting cans of something that looked like it could be fruit away in the cupboard.

Jon sighed. “A bit dry really. A minor run in with something that might’ve been the Stranger’s doing. Pretty pedestrian by our standards.”

“Isn’t _everything_ pedestrian by our standards now?” Martin said with a smirk.

Jon huffed a tired laugh. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

Martin put away the last of the supplies and closed the cupboards, finally leaning against the kitchen counter to look down at Jon. He wore an expression of concern.

“What?” Jon asked.

“You haven’t been… y’know, _seeing_ anything?”

Jon shook his head resolutely. “I’ve been doing my best not to…”

“ _...But?_ ” Martin sensed the word Jon had withheld.

Jon sighed. “But I’ve been finding it hard to stay… present. It’s all too easy for my mind to wander off, to go _looking_. This isn’t exactly the most riveting environment for distractions.” Jon gestured to the exceedingly plain surroundings of the interior of the cottage, and outside the window, where the rain fell onto the empty, rolling hills surrounding them.

“Yeah, I can see what you mean,” Martin conceded.

Jon ran a hand through his shaggy, greying hair. “I need a distraction.”

Martin looked around before opening a cupboard and rifling through it, picking out a box and shaking it. “There’s always Scrabble?”

Jon shook his head with a small smile. “I am all Scrabbled out, Martin.”

Martin pulled a face and started looking around, leaving the box on the table. “Surely Daisy had something fun to do around here to kill time.”

Jon snorted. “For Daisy, something fun could’ve been killing her _victims_ …” he started a laugh, but stopped it short. “Oh, joking about that makes me a heartless bastard, doesn’t it?”

“Little bit, yeah,” Martin agreed. “Doesn’t mean it’s not a bit funny though,” he added with a cheeky grin. He pulled open what looked like a utility cupboard and found several coils of rope, duct tape and assorted cable ties. “Or true, apparently.”

“Ah,” Jon exclaimed, catching sight of the contents of the cupboard. “That’s uh, yes. That.”

Martin closed the cupboard slowly, eyes lingering on the rope. Jon turned to continue his search for entertainment, but Martin looked back at the cupboard, ideas now trickling through his mind and tugging at his curiosity.

“There is…” Martin started quietly. “No, you wouldn’t be interested, never mind.”

“Wouldn’t be interested in _what?_ ” Jon asked, intrigued, but careful with his tone.

Martin blushed. “No, it’s… it’s silly. And a little embarrassing.” 

Jon’s eyebrows knitted together. “Martin, look at me, I’m desperate. You could tell me you’re a qualified yoga instructor right now and I would beg you to give me lessons.”

Martin let out a quiet chuckle. “Really? You’d beg me?”

“I would be in downward facing dog before you could say namaste.”

At that, Martin laughed, finally looking back at Jon and biting his lip. “Alright, but remember, it’s just a suggestion, and I would never ask you otherwise, and besides, I don’t even think you’d-”

“Martin!”

“I could… I could try tying you up?”

Jon blinked in silence.

Martin blushed deeper and could barely hide the apprehension in his voice. “I used to have a friend- a partner, a- uh, a _boyfriend_ , back when I was in college. It wasn’t very serious, he was into um, some of that um, sh-shibari, it’s called, like ornamental tying? Not in a sexual way or anything, although I know some people who... it just, it used to be sort of a grounding thing for him. That’s... why I suggested it.”

There was a beat of silence as Jon processed the words.

Martin shook his head. “I told you it was-”

“Yes,” Jon blurted out. “I think... I think I’d like to try that.”

Martin’s mouth hung open, staring, before he suddenly realised and snapped it shut, stuttering, “Ok… ok. Cool. Yeah.” He swallowed, let out a breath and smiled.

Jon couldn’t help but smile back.

“Ok. Cool.”

There was a moment where they each said nothing, but became used to the idea, like adjusting to the temperature after stepping into a warm bath. 

Martin was the one to break the silence. “So, um, _now_?”

“I don’t see why not? Is there anything we need to do to, you know, prepare?”

Martin shook his head. “Not really, no. I mean, you might want to stretch or relax a bit or something - a warm shower is nice before a session.”

“I actually had one a bit before, I’m feeling pretty relaxed physically.”

“Same, actually,” Martin agreed, sounding almost surprised at his own words. 

“So, to the bedroom?” Jon ventured.

Martin half shrugged. “It’s really up to you. It doesn’t have to be a bedroom thing if you don’t want it to be. The bed is soft, so it’s a good starting point, and it’s elevated so it makes it a bit easier to um, reach.”

Jon shifted a little. He hadn’t considered it until Martin brought it up, but the bedroom did seem very… intimate. It didn't feel wrong though. The bed in the safehouse was particularly comfortable, although if he was honest with himself, he wasn't sure if it was purely the bed or the feeling of sharing it with someone that made it so. Martin was a very good -and warm- sleeping partner. 

“The bed is good.”

Martin nodded, retrieving the rope from the cupboard and a pair of scissors, as a precaution. Jon led the way to the bedroom and Martin followed, noticing how silent Jon’s footsteps were, socks barely leaving an imprint in the carpet as he walked. He knew Jon was tough; you don't survive contact with a dozen odd avatars of fear unless you are, after all. But he did have all the scars to show for it. And lately, away from his own entity, effectively “dieting” as he had been, well, he felt a bit fragile. Martin reassured himself he would be very slow and gentle.

“Do we need like a… safe word or anything?” Jon asked, almost as if reading his thoughts - _a little unnerving_ \- as he turned to sit on the edge of the bed.

Martin thought for a moment. “We’ll use a traffic light system. Green for good, amber for when we’re maybe heading into territory that may not be fully comfortable, so, take it slow, and red is stop, I'll untie you immediately, no questions asked. Well, not before you’re untied, after of course I’ll want to talk about it so it doesn’t happen again… assuming you want it to happen again… I always like to che-”

“Martin,” Jon interrupted gently with a lopsided grin. “It’s ok, I get it.”

Martin nodded. “Good, good, just really wanted to make sure.”

“I trust you.”

The way Jon said it so plainly and how it sounded so genuine sent a feeling of warmth through Martin and put him at ease again.

“Ok,” Martin said, licking his lips and adjusting his glasses, “we’ll start with something simple. Are you comfortable in what you’re wearing?”

Jon looked down at his plain- ok, admittedly daggy- outfit of navy blue tracksuit bottoms and a lightweight grey jumper. He hadn’t planned on leaving the cottage anytime soon so comfort was his number one priority. He nodded. “Do I need to take anything off?”

“No, as long as you’re comfortable and not wearing anything too baggy that'll get in the way. This should be fine. Let me know if anything hurts at any time, ok? I don’t want to hurt you.”

Jon looked confused. “I thought it was _meant_ to hurt? Sort of, anyway.”

Martin’s eyes went wide. “Oh. Well, it _can_ , but… at least for now… let’s just go easy.”

Jon blushed slightly, but nodded, pushing himself further back on the bed but Martin gently placed warm hands on his narrow shoulders and dragged him forward again. 

For what felt like the first time, Jon took a moment to properly appreciate the difference in their frames. Martin was very tall and proportionately large, his hands easily wrapping all the way over Jon’s shoulders, fingers spreading down his shoulder blades, thumbs extending effortlessly down into the hollow beneath his collarbone, his grip firm but not intimidating. Despite their size difference, being around Martin never made Jon feel small; perhaps that was why it seemed like such a contrast now.

Martin uncoiled a length of rope, then twisted it in his hands, skilfully reorganising it into a workable loop. He found the centre point of the rope and folded it, pulling the ends through his other hand and straightening out the strands until the full length was now folded double. 

“Ready?” Martin asked, a calm air of authority seeming to come over him.

Jon nodded, humming assent.

Martin nodded in return. “Stand up for me. I want you to fold your arms behind your back with your wrists together, and grab your opposite forearm, like this.” He demonstrated grabbing his arm near the elbow with the hand not holding the rope and Jon understood, standing and folding his arms behind his back obediently. Martin placed a hand on Jon’s shoulder and guided him to turn around.

“Green?” He asked.

Jon nodded. “Green,” he repeated quietly. He felt Martin’s hands wrap the rope over his wrists, careful and gentle, even with the fabric of his jumper as a buffer between the rope and his skin. He closed his eyes and focused on the sensations, Martin’s warm hands and the rope sliding over his arms as Martin tied it off firmly and tested the knot.

“Green?”

“Green,” Jon agreed, noting his breath getting deeper.

“I’m going to do a simple box tie, it’s not particularly straining, but the rope will go around your chest, is that ok?”

Jon nodded again.

“Remember, amber if you need me to slow down, red if you want to stop, ok?” 

Jon smiled and rolled his eyes. “Yes, Martin, I’ve got it, I promise.”

Martin smiled and turned his attention back to the rope, pulling the loose ends tight around Jon’s arm and wrapping it around his chest, almost pulling him into a hug from behind as his arms encircled Jon with the rope.

Jon relaxed and let Martin work, the pressure from the rope a lingering presence in his consciousness. Reminding him he was here.

“It, uh, feels kind of nice, actually,” Jon muttered quietly as Martin did something to the rope at his back before passing it back around his front again, in the opposite direction this time, the pressure increasing ever so slightly. Martin chuckled quietly and continued working behind Jon’s back, tying off the rope in such a way that Jon’s arms were gently pulled up towards his shoulder blades in a not-entirely-unpleasant way.

Jon hummed at the sensation.

“How’s that feel?” Martin asked, stepping back and letting Jon turn back around on his own.

Jon tested the bonds, wiggling his fingers and drumming them against his forearms before rolling his shoulders and testing the rope at his chest with a deep breath in that was just slightly constricted at the top. It was surprisingly effective and oddly comfortable. 

“Definitely better than the last several times I’ve been tied up,” he admitted with a grin. “I can see why people like this, actually. It’s like, not having to be in control… It’s almost meditative.”

Martin blushed. “I will admit, I do quite enjoy being the one in control sometimes.” He playfully nudged Jon backwards, sending him toppling onto the bed with a quiet yelp. Jon squirmed for a moment, unable to right himself immediately without the use of his arms. Martin sat on the edge of the bed and pulled him upright to sit next to him, chuckling. 

Jon pretended to pout, but the way his face flushed suggested he was enjoying himself more than he let on. 

“Very funny.”

“I thought so,” Martin grinned back. 

They sat for a moment in comfortable silence, Jon leaned into Martin’s side, in part for stability, in part because the contact was comforting, warm. For the first time in a long time, he felt sleepy. Not tired, but like he could peacefully drift off to sleep here and now. 

He pulled his legs up and folded them under himself to sit cross-legged on the bed, still leaning his head against Martin’s shoulder. 

“Hey,” Martin nudged him with his shoulder. “You still good?”

“Mmhmm,” Jon hummed contentedly, lazily stretching his fingers out behind his back to check the blood flow. 

Martin’s eyes glanced over Jon’s easy cross-legged position. “Do you think you can handle a leg bind?”

Jon cocked his head sideways inquisitively.

“Like this,” Martin again demonstrated, gently taking one of Jon’s ankles and guiding it up so his calf was flush with his thigh. “You’re certainly flexible enough.”

“Oh. Yes, sure, I mean, we can try.”

Martin re-positioned the pillows on the bed so they were behind Jon to support his back, mainly so he wouldn’t be laying on his arms.

“Lay back for me,” Martin instructed, using one hand to help Jon lower himself onto the bed and pillows. “Still green?”

“Still green,” Jon said with a smirk. 

Martin hummed as he unravelled and re-coiled another piece of rope. There was one more left at the foot of the bed. One for each leg, then. Martin arranged it much the same way as he had the first, folding it in the middle and threading the ends through his hand to even them out. He wrapped the folded end around Jon’s ankle twice, then tied it off and tested the knot, much like he’d done with his wrists. Content with his handiwork, he took the loose ends and wrapped them high around Jon’s upper thigh, pushing his ankle up to meet it, so his knee pointed straight up towards the ceiling. 

Jon let out an audible gasp as Martin cinched it tight. 

“Still green?” Martin checked.

“Mmhmm,” Jon hummed out, slightly more evident distress in his voice now.

With surprisingly deft hands, Martin started wrapping and tying the remaining rope in loops up Jon's leg, ensuring it was completely secure. It was fascinating to watch.

“This is called ‘spiral futomomo’,” Martin said with a sly grin.

“ _Spiral_ ,” Jon almost laughed.

“Thought you’d appreciate that.” 

Martin finished the tie and Jon looked over it. It was remarkably artistic for, well, tying someone up. Testing his movement, he found he was again, completely helpless to do much more than move his knee up and down a bit.

“Green?” Martin raised an eyebrow.

“Green.”

“Right for me to do the other leg, then?” Martin was already preparing the rope.

Jon chewed his lip. “Yeah, I mean, may as well. In for a penny and all that.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Jon blushed again. “Maybe a little bit. S’nice, you know?”

Martin nodded. “Yeah, I know... It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. This moment right now, this is just for us.”

Any tension Jon had been holding suddenly seemed to dissolve away. He let out a long breath and sunk back into the bed and pillows, wiggling his fingers and toes, just being present in the moment. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”

Martin finished off the knots on his other leg and ran his hands over Jon’s knees. 

“Good?”

Jon shifted his legs as far as he could, which wasn’t very far. He could sit up if he balanced carefully and really used his core, but that was about the extent of it. He found himself completely helpless. 

“Good. Weird, but good.”

Martin smiled smugly, running his hands over the knots, pulling at the ropes in places to tighten them or redistribute the tension across Jon’s body. That sleepy warm sensation came over him again. Jon closed his eyes and focused on all the little sensations it created, without his mind drifting away, the world seemed to melt into oblivion around him, only the feeling of Martin's warmth remaining.

The next thing he knew, the pressure was releasing from his legs and chest and arms, the ropes unravelling and blood flow bringing some pleasant tingles to his limbs. Martin was gently rubbing where the knots had pressed into Jon's skin. Jon realised with no small amount of surprise that he must’ve drifted off. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled groggily. 

“You looked so peaceful.” Martin smiled warmly at him. “Not the first time it’s happened. Something like being held, I’ve been told, it’s supposed to be reassuring.”

“It is,” Jon agreed, stretching his legs and arms and rubbing feeling back into them as Martin looped the rope neatly around itself for storage. “Comfortable. That was really nice. I'm glad you suggested it. Thank you.”

“Any time. Really. If it helps, I’m happy to, uh, _help_.”

Jon squinted at him. “Why do I get the impression that was a warm-up, Martin?”

Martin grinned and shrugged. “I mean, there are loads of ways to tie someone up. That was definitely one of the more basic ones… there’s always more intricate restraints, decorative ties, suspension…” The gleam in his eye made it clear this was something Martin was proud of and Jon had to admit he was curious. 

“I feel like if we’re going to be cooped up in here for any great period of time, we’re definitely going to get around to trying some of those...”

_“...and?”_

Jon smiled, warm and genuine. “...and I get the feeling that’s something we’re both looking forward to.”

Martin returned his smile. “You’re not wrong.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeing as how the first session went so well, Jon approaches Martin for another, more intense, attempt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little rougher, but it is still very much consensual. CW for a face slap.

It was safe to say, from that first time, they were both hooked.

The second time came the very next day, when Jon approached Martin, hands twisting, face already flushing warm. 

Martin had been reading one of the books he’d brought, an old favourite he knew almost by heart, so he wasn’t bothered by the intrusion. In fact, he was almost expecting it. 

He lowered the book to smile at Jon. “I thought you were monologuing? Statements that dry today?”

“No… well, uh, yes, but that’s not- that’s not what I wanted to ask.”

“Oh?” Martin remarked, feigning only passing interest and trying hard to hide the smirk desperately trying to creep into his expression. He didn’t need Jon’s abilities to know what it was about. He did want to hear it from Jon though.

“I was thinking...”

“-There’s a first time for everything,” Martin interrupted, letting the smirk slip.

“Ha ha,” Jon said dryly. “Very funny…”

“I thought so,” Martin replied, still grinning.

“I _was_ going to suggest you show me more of your boy scout skills, but if you're going to be like _that_ about it…” Jon pouted.

“What, you don't want to be tied up now?” Martin suggested casually and the blush in Jon's cheeks glowed hotter.

Jon made an indignant _‘hmph’_ sound. “Not if you’re going to be like _that_ about it.”

“Ok then, suit yourself.” Martin picked his book back up, but continued to watch Jon over the top of the page, waiting for his response. 

Jon’s face seemed to contort through the five stages of grief with a few others thrown in for good measure as he scrambled to think of something to say in response. In the end he just sighed, shoulders slumping, an earnest and humbled grin on his face. He sighed. “I would -very much- like to be tied up again.”

Jon turned his eyes up to meet Martin’s and Martin noticed just how green they were now. 

“Please?” He added.

Martin’s grin returned, still smug, but gentler, eager. He put the book down again, dog-earing the page he was on. “Of course. D’you have something in particular you want to try?”

Jon looked down again, eyes scanning the floor intently. “I was thinking... I- I know you said last time you didn't want to hurt me- but... W-what if I _wanted_ it to hurt? Just a bit.” He finally looked up to see Martin’s face flash concern. 

“Jon,” he frowned. “You know you don't deserve to be punished for-”

“It’s not for punishment-” Jon was quick to interrupt. “I mean, I suppose, in a way I _do_ feel like I deserve- that’s not the point though- I… uh, well… _want_ it...”

“Oh…? Oh!” Martin put it together.

Jon rallied quickly, as if afraid he would change the subject and miss his chance to ask again. “You don't have to really hurt me - I don’t want you to be uncomfortable - but I would be okay with it being a little rougher... a little more... stress? Or... or tighter? You- you understand, right?” Jon winced as he said it.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok,” Martin reassured him, putting both hands on his shoulders. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, remember? It’s just us. I’m not judging you for wanting this.”

Jon looked up at him with a small, grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“Besides, I do have a few things we could try. That _I want_ to try.” Martin’s face turned pensive for a moment, before he nodded, as if confirming to himself. “As long as you’re ok with it.” 

“I’m certainly open to trying new things,” he paused to consider how that sounded- he wasn’t usually the most adventurous man, so he added: “...within reason.”

“Alright,” Martin said after a beat, “if you want to get ready… I dunno, maybe actually go read a statement or something; give me about a half hour to see what I can do.”

Jon immediately brightened and he nodded. “Sure, okay.” He headed off to the room he’d converted to his ‘office’. 

When Jon returned, Martin had rekindled the fire and the warmth had started to radiate through the room, taking some of the chill out of the air. The curtains had been drawn and the rope had been laid out in neat bundles. Martin was standing on a chair, affixing a length of rope to the rough wooden rafters. 

“Almost done.”

Jon perched on the edge of the sofa and watched Martin step off the chair and secure a large carabiner through the loop of rope he’d hung. 

“Where’d you find that?” He asked.

Martin pulled down on it with both hands, putting nearly his entire weight into it. It held fast. “Found it in that utility closet with the other, uh… _stuff_ that Daisy had in there.”

“Handy.” 

“Extremely,” Martin replied with a grin as he finished tying it off securely. “How was your uh- snack?”

Jon snorted. “Satisfying, actually. I feel pretty good.” 

“Oh, good. It’ll be nice going into it in a bit of a different headspace. Same rules though, traffic lights, yeah?”

Jon nodded. “Green, amber, red. I remember.”

“And you haven’t changed your mind? Still want it to ... _hurt_ a little?”

Jon chewed his lip, barely hiding a grin and something a little too eager in his eyes. He nodded. “Worried I can’t take it?” 

Martin scowled. “Honestly? A little, yeah. You don’t need to tough it out and you certainly don’t need to prove anything to me… but that doesn’t mean I’m going to go easy on you.”

Jon smirked and stretched his arms above his head, a hideous cracking sound coming from one, then the other shoulder, followed by a contented sigh as he dropped his arms down to his sides again. 

Martin looked horrified. 

“What?” Jon asked.

“Was that from your shoulders?!” 

“Yes?”

“Is that normal?”

“Is it _not_?”

“I-I don’t think so?” Martin stammered. “Does it hurt?”

“No, feels fine. I do it all the ti- oh, I guess I tend to mostly do it after reading statements.”

“Oh… kay…” 

“They won’t do it again for a while, promise.”

Martin nodded, looking slightly relieved. “Ok, as long as they’re not going to do that while I’m tying you up - I would probably think I’d broken your arm or something.”

Jon laughed at that. “Don’t worry. It’s harder to break me than you might think.”

“That’s somewhat reassuring,” Martin said, rolling the sleeves of his jumper up. “Are you ok to take your clothes off? You can leave your unders on. I tried to warm the room up so it would be more comfortable. I just don’t want any fabric getting in the way for this - the rope can slip on it and that can be dangerous.” 

Jon’s eyes briefly widened in surprise, but he nodded, shedding his outer layers of clothing without question, stripping down to his plain white vest and dark grey boxer briefs that hung slightly loose at the legs from where the elastic had worn out. 

Martin smiled fondly as he took in the sight of Jon before him, arms crossed lightly, sharp angles of bone stuck out beneath scarred skin and patches of coarse dark body hair that looked like it never grew in fully to begin with. His grey-streaked hair was pulled back in a messy almost-bun with a few strands already free and hanging in his face. He wasn’t wearing his glasses. Martin suspected he didn’t really need them anymore and when he remembered them, he only put them on out of habit. It still seemed almost surreal to Martin that they were here, that Jon returned his feelings for him, that he trusted him enough to do anything like this. He wanted to never let anything bad happen to him… _well, he supposed there were_ some _exceptions_. 

“C’mere,” Martin said, less of an instruction than a request, holding his arms out to Jon. 

Jon went to him without hesitation, taking a moment to press himself against Martin and be held, hearing Martin’s heartbeat as he leaned his ear against his chest, the pair breathing in unison as Martin wrapped him in his arms. It felt safe. Right.

Martin gave him one last squeeze before pulling away and placing his hands on Jon’s narrow shoulders as he looked him in the eyes. “What I want to do is try a bit of suspension if you’re up for it? It shouldn’t hurt as such, but it’s more... intense than what we did last time. If you’re ok with that then we can see where we go from there. Sound good?”

Jon smiled. “Sounds good.”

“I’m not going to go easy on you.”

“I don’t want you to,” Jon said emphatically. 

Martin nodded. “Traffic lights,” he reminded him. “I’ll be checking in.”

Jon nodded back as Martin fetched a length of prepared rope. 

“Arms behind your back, straight out, palms together for me,” Martin instructed.

Jon obeyed without a fuss and Martin began to tie a simple arm bind, staring at his wrists, then his forearms below the elbow, then his upper arms, above the elbow. Thankfully, his shoulders didn’t crack, but he was remarkably flexible and Martin was able to get his elbows fairly close together without forcing it or restricting circulation too much. He tested Jon’s flexibility further by drawing his wrists up and away from his back, forcing him to lean forward, but there was still a good amount of movement in his arms. Martin was beginning to wonder if perhaps he was hypermobile and maybe he’d need to be careful of straining his joints, but a sharp intake of breath from Jon let him know he’d hit an edge and he immediately backed off.

Jon whined in response and it took Martin by surprise, he let out a shocked chuckle.

 _Good to know_ , he thought to himself.

“Yeah, I know, I know; you want it rougher, but I get to set the pace, ok? Be patient.”

“Sorry,” Jon apologised, casting his eyes down. It earned a raised eyebrow from Martin and spurred an odd swelling in his chest. 

Jon couldn’t see what Martin was doing behind his back, but he felt the tug of rope against skin between his arms and steadily his arms were pulled up again, forcing him to bend forward and rise up onto his toes until Martin must have tied it off.

“Colour?” Martin asked casually and Jon took a second to compute. 

“Uh, green.” He balanced precariously, feeling the stretch in his arms as Martin retrieved another length of rope. 

“I want to tie a hip harness,” Martin explained casually. “It’ll go around your waist and upper thighs and a bit between your legs, you ok with that?”

Jon swallowed and nodded. “Yes.”

“Good, because then I want to use it to suspend you from that carabiner that your arms are tied to.”

Jon could hear the smug expression on his face as he said it and his knees almost gave way. Fortunately he regained his composure momentarily.

“Jon? Is that ok?”

“Y-yes,” Jon gasped.

Martin knelt behind Jon with the other rope and started to wrap it around Jon’s hips and thighs. If he looked down, he could see him passing it around his body, carefully controlling how tight it was and exactly where the coils lay against his skin. Something Jon had failed to consider, however, was just how ticklish his hips were and as Martin placed a hand on the crest of one, Jon could feel his body tremble, sparks of impulse making their way directly to his spine as he squirmed under the touch and fought the urge to giggle. 

Martin realised almost immediately and drummed his fingers against the bony points, drawing another whine from Jon and making him squirm more. Martin dragged his fingers over Jon’s hips a few more times, appreciating the way he shifted on tiptoe and shuddered trying to maintain his composure, all the while biting his lip and letting out quiet whimpers. Finally, Martin took hold of his hips firmly, digging his fingers in and letting his short fingernails leave marks in skin. That dragged a low moan out of Jon as he shuddered and his knees buckled under him, catching his weight by his arms and making him yelp before Martin caught him, supporting his weight with one arm around his chest and stopping him from collapsing completely. 

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he soothed. 

Jon let out a shuddering sigh. “No fair,” he mumbled.

Martin chuckled. “No, it wasn’t, but I told you I wasn’t going easy on you.” He steadied Jon on his toes again and stepped back. “Colour?” 

Jon hummed. “Green.”

“Good,” Martin said, pleased with his progress so far. He went back to work, only a little distracted by the gentle curve of Jon’s behind in nothing but his pants. When he was finished, there was a loop of rope to act as an attachment point running right down Jon’s backside. For now, it made a convenient handle for manoeuvring him around. Martin stood and steadied Jon with one hand on his chest to stop him toppling over. He gave the ‘handle’ a hard tug, the harness holding fast and Jon was jerked backwards, letting out another yelp as he bounced on his toes and leaned into Martin’s hand for support. 

“Colour?” Martin asked, helping Jon find his footing once more.

Jon hissed a breath through his teeth. “Green.”

“How’re your arms?” Martin ran a finger down the sides of Jon’s hands, from wrist to pinky and the outside of his thumbs and forefingers. “Can you feel that?”

Jon nodded. “They’re okay, and I can feel that.”

“Good,” Martin replied, “let me know if you get any numbness or sudden pins and needles.”

“Yes, yes, I will,” Jon said, a slight air of exasperation to his voice, which Martin frowned at. 

He took another length of rope he’d laid out, affixed it to the loop made by the harness around Jon’s hips and passed the ends through the carabiner, pulling all the slack through. Jon lifted up onto his toes again, his weight now partially supported by the ropes. 

“Just one more,” Martin said, grabbing the last coil of rope and working quickly and without fanfare to tie Jon’s ankles together, leaving a long tail on the rope which he gathered and threaded through the carabiner too.

“Ready?”

Jon swallowed and nodded. 

Martin started to pull on the ropes, hoisting first Jon’s hips, then legs, then arms, alternating so as to keep the tension even across his body, with most of his weight taken up by the harness at his hips. It felt like Jon hardly weighed anything, so it wasn’t a difficult task by any stretch for Martin. Once he had Jon at about chest height, he tightened the ropes holding his arms and legs just a fraction more and tied them off. Jon’s arms were pulled up and back behind him, his legs were bent with his toes pointed back towards his head and his hips supported the majority of his weight, despite the gentle arch in his back. The position reminded Martin of a bow and arrow, knocked, but not drawn to full stretch… yet. 

Jon’s eyes were gently closed and he took slow, steady breaths. 

He clenched and relaxed his hands and wiggled his toes, appreciating the way his skin pulled around the rope. It was definitely different from the first time; rope on bare skin, combined with the tightness needed to hold the tension and support the entirety of his own body weight that made it far more intense. Not painful or even uncomfortable exactly, but it was much closer to what he felt he needed.

“Colour, Jon?” Martin asked.

Jon hummed. “Green.” 

Martin walked a circle around him, gently twisting him one way, then the other, running his hands over the places rope met skin and seeing the waves of goosebumps left in their wake. 

After a few minutes of gentle ministrations, Martin repeated the nerve checks, running a finger down the sides of his hands. “Can you feel that?”

Jon was spacey, a soft “hmm” the only reply. 

“Jon?” Martin repeated, louder this time, moving to stand in front of him. “Can you feel that?”

The hum came again, a little louder, but Jon was still spacey. 

“Jon,” Martin said firmly, Jon finally opening his eyes to look at him. “I need you to answer me when I ask you to.”

Jon rolled his eyes and went to make a sarcastic reply, when suddenly a sharp sting rang out across his cheek. Jon yelped and it took a second for him to shake off the shock and realise that Martin had slapped him. 

“Is that clear, Jon?” Martin repeated more forcefully. 

“I- Y-yes, it’s clear. Yes,” Jon stammered out, still reeling trying to reconcile the slap. He honestly couldn’t say he didn’t like it just a little bit though. He had asked for it, after all.

“Do try to take your safety a little more seriously, Jon,” Martin chided, his tone almost threatening in a way Jon hadn’t heard before, one which had a pleasant, dark edge to it. 

It almost reminded him of the compulsion and instantly made him want to submit to it. “Sorry, I will,” Jon mumbled, bowing his head and studiously looking at the floor. “I’m ok, I can feel it.”

“Colour?” Martin asked, knowing this was unfamiliar territory for Jon.

“Green... _green_ ,” he replied without hesitation, putting Martin’s nerves at ease. 

Another surge of warmth welled in Martin’s chest and this time he allowed himself a moment to acknowledge it for what it was: he was enjoying it. Not that he wasn’t before, but it was more of a matter-of-fact thing, he was giving Jon something he needed and he was good at providing. Now, he was enjoying watching Jon give in to him and that meant he had to be careful to keep his own desires in check. Fortunately that was something he had a lot of experience with. 

He put his hand on Jon’s head and Jon instantly leaned into it, almost catlike. Martin started to run his hand through his hair, pausing momentarily to release it from the messy half-bun and gently comb it out with his fingers, brushing the long strands off Jon’s face. 

He stroked Jon’s cheek, still warm where the slap had connected, but he’d not hit him hard enough to leave a mark, it was mostly for the shock. It had worked wonderfully. 

“Think you can take a little more?” 

“Depends,” Jon mused, a mischievous look in his eyes, “Are you going to slap me again?”

Martin returned the look. “Why, do you want me to?”

Jon chewed his lip for a minute. “I- I wouldn’t be _strongly_ opposed.”

Martin laughed. “I’m not going to hit you again… unless you keep being a brat about it.”

Jon seemed to consider that, a smirk trying to creep across his face that Martin ignored for now. 

“I just want to reconfigure the ropes a little. I’ll take it slow. Let me know if it gets too much.”

Jon opened his mouth as if to say something, but Martin caught the look and raised an eyebrow. Jon snapped his mouth shut but there was still a glimmer in his eye. 

Again, Martin ignored it, turning his attention back to the rope between Jon’s hips and the carabiner. He untied the knot holding the tension and slowly, carefully, let it out in small increments, lowering Jon’s hips bit by bit. The arch in his back deepened as his arms and legs took more of his weight, stretching his shoulders, back and hips. 

Jon hissed a breath through his teeth as the angle between his arms and back increased, he squeezed his eyes closed and Martin slowed down instinctively, giving him a moment to adjust. Once Jon’s breathing steadied, Martin slowly started letting more rope out, pushing him just a little bit further until-

“A-Ah- Amber, amber,” Jon gasped. “...I think that’s about as far as my back will bend.” His breath was coming in short gasps and Martin knew they were now on a time limit. 

“Do you want me to let you down?”

Jon swallowed. “No, no, I’m ok. This is good.”

Martin carded fingers through his hair again, twisting them and pulling gently as he did so, pulling a few hums and low whines from Jon. Every now and then he’d shudder, shaking the ropes and making himself gasp. Martin had to admit it was amusing to watch. 

Martin again ran his fingers through Jon’s hair, close to the scalp, before curling his fingers and gripping a handful of hair, making Jon whine high and loud as he pulled his head back just enough to make him gasp again. 

“Is this what you want, Jon?” Martin asked in that tone that gave Jon goosebumps.

_Yes. Yes, so much yes._

All that came out was a broken whine. 

“What did I say about words, Jon?” Martin tightened his grip in his hair and his other hand swept up the side of Jon’s neck, his palm coming to rest under his chin. 

Jon’s breath hitched. Considering Martin hadn’t put the slightest pressure on his throat, he didn’t think it was from lack of air. He felt Jon’s pulse quicken under his palm as he leaned into the touch, offering himself; his vulnerability. 

“Colour?”

“Green- green, for the love of god, green,” Jon stammered desperately, overcome with a need for Martin to finish what he started.

Jon whined quietly, the sound pleading, the vibrations travelled up Martin’s arm and sent a wave of warmth to Martin’s chest, causing his own breath to stutter.

“Martin, please,” Jon whined again, swallowing, scarred Adam's apple bobbing under Martin’s touch. Martin let his fingers close firmly around Jon’s delicate throat, careful of where he put pressure to avoid constricting the carotid arteries, giving Jon the sensation he was after while minimising the potential of doing any serious harm. 

Martin kept one hand firmly in his hair, holding him fast as he whined, trying to squirm away and lean harder into Martin’s hand around his throat. His whole body shook with the effort.

Jon looked ruined. Whatever had been building up in him for however long, it all bubbled to the surface. This was the release he'd needed.

Martin eased up gently, slowly uncurling his fingers, feeling Jon swallow under his hand once more before he removed it completely, running it down his chest as he untangled the fingers of his other hand from his hair. 

Jon let his head hand limp, the bones of his shoulder blades sticking out as his hair fell down around his face. He let out a shuddering breath and his limbs again shook involuntarily. 

_Time’s up._

“Jon, I’m going to let you down now, slowly.”

Jon made a soft noise of protest and Martin ignored it, alternately letting the tension out of the ropes holding his arms, legs and hips until Jon was nearly level with the ground. He dragged over the heavy woollen throw from the sofa and some cushions he’d gathered for exactly this reason and arranged them under Jon as he lowered him down. He let him fully collapse onto the floor, allowing his joints to settle back approximately into place, before releasing the simple single-column tie binding his ankles together, giving them a quick rub and then moving to his arms. He made sure to release the tension slowly, gently rubbing the places where the rope left deep and intricate patterns in Jon’s skin and finally, rubbing his scarred hands until his fingers started to clench around his own. 

Jon hummed, finally seeming to come back to himself, just as Martin was undoing the last of the ropes at his waist. Tossing the bundle aside, Martin moved to sit next to Jon in the pile of pillows he’d made for them. Jon tentatively rolled over and slowly brought himself to sit upright. As soon as he did, Martin wrapped his arms around him and pulled him to sit close, his back to Martin’s chest, big strong arms encircling him, rubbing gently at his arms and pulling him in closer.

Jon almost melted into him. 

“Was that about what you had in mind?” Martin asked, resting his chin atop Jon’s head. 

Jon swallowed and licked his lips. “It was… I don’t know what I had in mind, honestly. But that was… that was perfect.” He leaned into Martin’s chest. “Thank you.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes soaking in each others’ warmth and letting the flood of endorphins wash over them. 

Shifting his weight and sitting up a little, Martin playfully tousled Jon’s hair. “I never imagined you’d be so into bondage, Jon,” he said with a chuckle.

Jon almost choked. “I- what? No, I just- I- I, uh…”

Martin laughed, fingers tracing the indents on his arms left by the ropes to illustrate his point. “You’re kinky, Jon, and you’re into bondage, face it.”

“I mean... I don’t know if I’d put it like that, _exactly_ , but…” Jon chewed his lip as the colour rose in his face. “I’ll have you know, I blame you entirely.”

Martin raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Instead he hummed a giggle and planted a kiss on the top on Jon’s head, running his fingers through his hair again. “It suits you.”

Jon balked. “What?”

“You look good in rope,” Martin said, matter-of-factly.

Jon blushed and looked down, but Martin gently turned his chin up to look at him. He kissed his cheek softly.

“I’m sorry for slapping you, I hope it didn’t hurt too much.”

Jon grinned. “Uh- it uh… no, no, it was fine.”

“Fine, huh?” Martin probed.

Jon sighed. “Let’s just say I was surprised at how different it feels when you’re with someone you trust.” He intertwined their fingers. “When you’re with someone you _love_.”

Martin kissed him on the forehead and pulled him into another hug. 

After a long while he sighed, stood and helped Jon to his feet. 

“C’mon, I’ll make us some tea.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Jon just needs options taken away from him.

The low roar in Jon’s head had been building slowly, steadily since the last statement he'd read only barely an hour prior, just after Martin left. He'd made himself a cup of tea and sat down on the sofa with a blanket and a book and tried so hard to ignore it, playing it off as a headache, just a nagging on his will, a craving for a cigarette like when he first quit all those years ago… except he hadn't had he? Not really. He absentmindedly fiddled with the lighter in his pocket, feeling the weight of it reassuring in his palm. 

No. 

He turned his attention back to the book but his eyes refused to focus on the words. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes but it only seemed to make it worse. He squinted at the page in frustration, as if the letters would resolve themselves under his scornful gaze. They stubbornly refused. 

Fine.

He put the book down and tucked his legs up close, hugging his knees in tight. He piled the blanket on top of himself, but it wasn't enough, it didn't feel right. 

He dragged himself up and trudged to the bedroom, flinging himself onto the bed and burrowing into the blankets, curling into a tight ball and piling the covers over him, feeling marginally more secure under their weight. Still, his mind reached out and he tried desperately to contain it, keep it localised to a single thought at a time - mindfulness. 

Unfortunately the thought that kept surfacing was “starving”.

He squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped himself up tighter, trying to block out any further thoughts.

He'd wait for Martin to get back and he would make it better. He knew it was unfair to assume that Martin could somehow fix his cravings. He refused to allow himself to even consider it was because he could extract a statement from him if he was really desperate. No, Martin simply being present would just make it better. Somehow. 

He'd been gone so long already, what on earth was keeping him? He only wanted to pop into the village for tea and milk and a few other things, why wasn't he back yet?

As if on cue, Jon faintly heard the front door open, muffled by the pile of blankets that lay atop him. He didn’t dare move, Martin would find him soon enough.

More muffled sounds of things being put away in the kitchen, cupboards opening and closing, feet shuffling room to room. 

“Jon?” Martin called, carefully.

“In here,” Jon responded, only raising his voice just enough to let it escape from the pile of bedding. 

The bedroom door creaked open. “Oh, Jon…”

The bed springs groaned and Jon felt the mattress dip slightly, pulling him to where Martin sat on the bed. Martin slowly peeled back the layers of bedding to uncover Jon, still tightly tucked into himself, looking as small as ever, as lost and helpless as Martin has seen him since they arrived at the cottage.

When he looked up at Martin, his eyes shone green and full of pain. It was enough to make him look away.

“What took you so long?” Jon demanded, the words laced with the velvet sweet enticement neither of them had heard since before they left the institute.

“Well it was supposed to be a quick trip, but on my way back I stopped at this shop that sells preserves and knick knacks and the woman who runs it started talking about her daughter who moved to America and I'm pretty sure she’s just lonely, but you know how I am, and besides, it would've been rude to cut her off, so I stayed far longer than I wanted to.” The words tumbled from him like someone had turned on a tap, followed by a deep exhale as he felt the compulsion release him. “Jon  _ please _ don’t do that.”

Jon looked horrified. “Martin, I’m- I’m so sorry, I-I didn’t mean to, it was an accident... God, how do you even put up with m-” he caught himself just as the tingle of compulsion started to run up Martin’s spine, clamping his hands over his mouth to stop the words escaping. He looked pleading up at Martin.

“Oh, Jon.” He sighed heavily. “Do you want me to leave you alone? Do you want to try reading another statement?”

Jon shook his head, keeping a hand over his mouth. 

Martin sighed again. “Do you want me to stay with you?”

Jon nodded, sitting up and moving closer to Martin. 

“I can’t have you trying to do that though. I  _ won’t  _ have it. Are you going to be able to keep yourself under control?”

Jon just looked at him, a pained and confused expression drawn on his face. 

Slowly, he released his hands from his mouth. “I don’t want to- do  _ that- _ to you. But I don’t think I can control it… right now.”

Martin rubbed his shoulder. “It’s ok, it’s ok…”

Jon put his hands back over his mouth as if holding it closed was the only thing stopping him.

Martin frowned. “Perhaps… maybe it would help if…” he shook himself out of his uncertainty and straightened up. “Would you like me to gag you? Daisy had some gaffer tape in the cupboard.”

Jon considered for a moment before slowly nodding. It seemed safer than the alternative to just take the option away from him entirely.

Martin gently rubbed his shoulder again. “Ok, ok. Just wait here, I’ll be back.”

Martin stood and left quietly, while Jon re-positioned himself to sit cross-legged on the bed and slowly let his hands slip away from his face. He took a few steadying breaths, rubbing rough fingers down his face, dragging them over smooth and shiny scars before running them back up over his scalp, freeing his hair from the loose ponytail he’d had it tied back in. He scratched with dull fingernails at his scalp and combed the tangles from his hair before they became a problem. He was wearing the same loose, comfortable jumper and tracksuit bottoms he’d been wearing the first time Martin had suggested tying him up. Though, to be completely fair, that was now his go-to outfit when it wasn’t being washed. 

He heard Martin moving outside the room and the roar in his head grew louder, it felt like static electricity tingling in the back of his brain, making him want to reach inside and scratch until it went away. He shut his eyes and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyelids. For a moment, it almost felt like it offered some respite. 

He didn’t even notice Martin return to the room right away. 

“Hmmm…” Martin’s low hum gave him away, but Jon left his hands where they were, enjoying the numbing sensation it provided. 

“Is that… helping?” Martin asked.

Jon nodded, not confident enough to open his mouth without accidentally Asking.

“Right, just hang in there a little longer, ok?”

Jon whined, but he heard Martin disappear again. It wasn’t long before he’d returned. Or at least, he thought so, it was hard to track. 

The bed sank next to him and he almost jumped. Martin seemed to sense it, placing a hand on his back, soothing. “Hey, I’m back.”

Jon had to fight the urge to snipe back:  _ ‘yes, thank you, I’d guessed.’  _ Instead he just let out a short huff through his nose. 

“I brought you something that I think will help,” Martin said, gently taking Jon’s wrists and giving them a tug to move away from his eyes. 

Jon kept his eyes closed, but let Martin move his hands, laying them in his lap as soon as Martin released them. Soon, he felt soft jersey fabric press against his eyelids and wrap around his head, Martin moving his hair aside to knot the - _ Jon presumed it was one of Martin’s scarves, probably the soft blue and grey one he liked so much _ \- at the back of his head to hold it secure.

“How’s that?”

Jon nodded enthusiastically. 

Martin chuckled. “Ok, good, I’m glad… Um, this is going to be a little difficult. Before I put the tape on, I want to make sure you can tell me if you’re not ok.”

Jon nodded once. 

“Nodding is a good start, I’m going to be checking in, but I need something else ...just in case. Can you click your fingers?”

Jon nodded again and clicked his fingers a few times, making loud and clear snaps. 

“Ok, good. I might ask you to click for me as we go - if you want to stop at any time, click a few times to get my attention. I want to make this absolutely clear - I’m not going to leave the room for even a moment while you’re blindfolded and gagged, ok? I’ll be here the whole time, so don’t panic.”

Jon tipped his head back and rolled his eyes, glad Martin couldn’t see it. He worried so much, he needn’t, but deep down Jon did appreciate it. 

“Jon,” Martin said, in his stern voice that Jon had become just slightly enamoured with.

He sighed and nodded. 

“Good. Now, are you going to be ok with the tape as a gag? You can breathe through your nose ok? You’re not going to have a reaction to the adhesive or anything like that are you?” 

Jon thought back to the various times he’d been kidnapped and didn’t recall having an adverse reaction to anything aside from being terrified and uncomfortable - but this was Martin and was entirely different. He  _ wanted _ this. It was amazing the way the mind could justify certain behaviours in certain contexts, but far beyond him at this point in time to question it. Right now it wasn’t just what he wanted, it was what he  _ needed _ .

He nodded twice, then shook his head. 

Martin clarified. “Yes, ok with being gagged. Yes, can breathe through your nose. No, no reaction to the adhesive. If that’s right click once.”

Jon clicked once, obediently.

He heard the ripping of the tape and it sent shivers down his spine. That sound always did for some reason. Akin to ASMR he supposed. He’d never properly explored the concept, but he could see how it might appeal to some. Especially if that was the reaction it elicited. 

Martin smoothed the tape over his mouth, spreading it evenly over the edges of both cheeks, pressing down to make sure it stuck to his skin through the coarse stubble of his beard. 

_ Oh, that’s going to hurt to remove. _

Martin took another strip and laid it diagonally across the first, crossing higher on his cheek to under his chin, then another, mirroring it on the other side, creating and X pattern over the initial strip keeping his mouth firmly shut. 

Jon immediately felt himself relax, not entirely, but it was a start.

“Ok, now Jon, listen carefully. I can tie your hands so you can’t remove the tape or blindfold. If that’s what you want-”

Jon nodded furiously before Martin even finished his sentence. 

Martin chuckled through a sigh. “Ok. Hands behind your back for me.”

Jon did as he was told, already feeling the gentle pleasant tug of being able to let go completely as Martin wrapped the rope around his wrists, securing it snug but not uncomfortable against his skin. 

Jon let out a long, relieved sigh as the cling of static in his brain started to wane and quiet. 

“Can you click for me?”

Jon clicked his fingers twice, testing both hands. It was a little awkward thanks to the angle, but it worked. 

“And you’re ok?” 

Jon nodded. 

Martin wrapped him in his arms, hugging him tightly. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I promise I won't leave you alone like this. Not even for a moment.” 

At that, Jon nearly went boneless, practically melting into Martin. Fortunately, Martin seemed to have anticipated it and re-positioned both of them so Jon was laying on his right side on the bed with his head in Martin’s lap. 

Martin gently stroked his hair, curling his fingers through the long strands and scratching gently at his scalp around the blindfold. His other hand alternately rubbed his arms, shoulder or rubbed gently over his back, tracing patterns all the way down his spine and sending gentle tingles along his nerves. 

Jon was out of it, focused only on the sensations, it took him a few moments to realise Martin had been speaking. 

“-Jon? Can you hear me? Click if you can hear me or I’m going to have to untie you.”

Jon brought himself back to reality enough to click. 

“I know it probably feels a bit like you’re floating right now, but I do need to check in,” Martin explained gently. “I’m guessing you feel like you’re far away right now? Almost-” he sounded almost pained to say it- “sort of that feeling in the lonely?”

Jon shook his head. Not like that. Martin seemed to understand.

“Ok, bad example, not like that. But safe. A sort of surrender.”

Jon thought for a moment before nodding slowly. That pretty much fit the description. Like falling asleep in a comfortable bed with someone you trust. 

“Subspace.” Martin said simply. “That’s what it’s sometimes called. That peaceful headspace of pure surrender. It’s nice.”

The way he said it with such fondness piqued Jon’s curiosity - he made a mental note to later ask if Martin had ever experienced it. He had a hard time picturing it at first, but the more he thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. Jon wondered if he should ask to repay the favour sometime… maybe with some instruction. He was still struggling to accept he’d somehow gotten into bondage as a hobby. He would have laughed at merely the suggestion not so long ago.

Martin continued to stroke his head and hair and back and it wasn’t long before Jon was completely submerged in subspace again. There was no more trace of craving, of compulsion, or the pull of the eye or wanting him to Know things, to See things. It was just calm. And he had Martin. The constant warm presence under his cheek, the hand in his hair or rubbing gently at his back. His steady breathing and the rise and fall of his chest that Jon had subconsciously synchronised with.

_ Martin, I love you. _

The words popped into his mind as natural and effortlessly as breathing. The tape prevented them from coming out. 

_ They’ll still be there when you need them,  _ Jon reassured himself, feeling his courage to say them wane.  _ The truth always is. _

They stayed there for some time longer, Jon couldn’t have said if it were minutes or hours, but it was blissful. 

Slowly Martin’s fingers traced down Jon’s arms and started to untie the rope holding his hands. He rubbed circles into his wrists as he pulled the rope away but Jon didn’t make any effort to move, just sighed through his nose and nuzzled against Martin’s thigh. Martin’s left hand found Jon’s right and he interlaced their fingers, letting Jon clasp his hand in both of his to maintain the feeling of security. 

“You’re ok Jon, I’ve got you,” Martin crooned in his ear, his right hand snaking back up Jon’s spine and neck, fingers scrunching through his hair as they reached his skull. Jon bowed his head as Martin worked out the knot holding the scarf secure before pulling it away too. Jon kept his eyes closed, even after it had been removed, easing himself back into a sense of control. 

Martin’s left hand released Jon’s fingers and gently pulled away, and this time Jon rolled his shoulders and let his hands wander back to his front, reaching the left up to rest on Martin’s knee, the right curling into his chest. 

Martin gently nudged him to roll onto his back, so he could get to the tape.

“I’m going to take it off now, I’ll try to be as gentle as I can.”

Jon nodded, eyes still closed. He braced himself against the idea of essentially waxing his facial hair.

Martin worked off a corner easily enough and the tape came away with surprisingly little struggle, only the last piece pulling uncomfortably at his lip hair and making his nose twitch in small spasms. 

Martin brushed the hair off his face and Jon felt him plant a kiss to his forehead, flushing with warmth under his touch. 

Jon licked his lips, tasting the bitter residue of adhesive, and slowly opened his eyes. 

“Thank you.”

Martin smiled down at him. “Better?”

“Much.” The phrase that had come to him before still lingered in his mind, but it wasn’t the time now, the moment had passed. It would come again. For now, he took Martin’s hand from where it was resting lightly on his chest, held it in both of his and pressed a kiss into his palm. He held it to his cheek and leaned into it with a sigh.  “One day you really must let me return the favour,” he commented, finally letting go of his hand and making a move to sit up.

Martin chuckled, sliding off the bed to stand. “If you mean you’d tie me up and gag me, I’m not sure I’d really count that as a favour.”

Jon let out a startled laugh, as it brought back the thought of Martin in subspace with some degree of whiplash. “For now, I was actually going to propose a cup of tea. Although, if you’d rather…” 

“Tea it is. For now.”


End file.
